


"It's Just Sex, Right?"

by Ray_Writes



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Episode: s01e05 Damaged, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Gratuitous Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22522426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Writes/pseuds/Ray_Writes
Summary: Laurel and Oliver come to a different arrangement after she questions him on his polygraph results, which simplifies as many things as it complicates.
Relationships: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 27
Kudos: 72
Collections: Lauliver Week





	"It's Just Sex, Right?"

**Author's Note:**

> Um, so I swear there's a lot of talking in this one, it's not just thirty-five pages of sex. xD Many thanks to Okori on the Lauriver discord (or Okoriwadsworth as he's known on FFN) for beta-reading this thing and helping me make some significant improvements. If this is your kind of story, then I hope you enjoy!

He was lying to her. Again. That made this whole thing so much more complicated.

Laurel didn’t know how Oliver expected her to believe his ‘too weak to pick up a pencil’ act when she had seen him in her apartment those few weeks ago. How he’d acted decisively to keep them just out of reach of the Triad, how he had thrown that knife across a room to help Mr. Diggle. She didn’t doubt he felt and was damaged in some ways, but physical ability? She’d seen his scars, yes, but she’d also seen his muscles.

So he was lying for certain. Whether it was about his identity as the Hood or not, she couldn’t really know. He had been present at the Manor when the Hood was spotted last night. Maybe he was just covering for the vigilante. In any case, he wasn’t about to tell her.

And could she really blame him? They were exes, barely friends anymore and she had run out on him after their admittedly passionate kiss. A kiss she had been thinking about, tossing and turning in bed about, for most of the previous night.

So maybe it was best to mention the elephant in the room. “After last night… it’s clear we’re still attracted to one another.”

He watched her, not giving an inch, just waiting for her verdict. Apparently, the decision how to proceed was all hers, and she supposed that was fair after she had been the one to run off.

She had half a mind to tell him that it was over completely between them, that their history together was just that — history. And yet…

Oliver was a known quantity. Even whatever unknown thing he was hiding was a known; he was lying to her. She could live with that. Had lived through it. She knew however much he claimed to care, there would always be something else. There was safety in that, almost. She couldn’t have her hopes let down if they weren’t up in the first place.

Whereas the Tommy Problem, as she was taking to calling it in her head as of late, was an unknown. Total unknown. Tommy didn’t do real dating, and there was every chance he would realize that was because he hated it. She’d tried once before to tame a playboy, after all.

Which brought her, as always, back to Oliver. Who was still waiting for her to finish her thought.

Laurel wasn’t sure what decided it for her, but the next words out of her mouth were, “I’m thinking we should come to some kind of arrangement.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. It wasn’t like she’d walked in here with a plan beyond asking if he was the Hood. “I mean that I’m not comfortable pursuing a relationship. And you clearly aren’t either, judging by your hot-and-cold act ever since you’ve gotten back.”

He took a step towards her. “Laurel—”

“It’s fine, because I’d honestly have to be crazy to start dating you again like nothing happened.” This, now, was probably still crazy. She could practically hear her father’s ranting, even if he had retired his pet theory that Oliver was the Hood.

“Then what…?” He looked at a total loss, and she sighed.

“I’m saying we should be adults about this. Neither of us wants a relationship with anyone, but we still have wants.” She did, at least. And he’d said last night, _there was something I wanted more._ She very narrowly suppressed a shiver at the memory of his intentful gaze.

“You want to keep having sex together.”

Why did he look so shocked? He’d had God knew how many casual flings before that island.

Laurel threw her hands up. “It was just an idea. You know? Forget it.”

She turned and had her hand on the doorknob when he called out to her, “Wait.” Laurel didn’t turn around, so she felt rather than saw him draw up behind her. Her body was still so attuned to him, it was like some current ran from her to him every time they were in the same room. Painful but electrifying. She should hate it.

She didn’t.

“I know why we can’t be together the way we were. But you could- there are other relationships out there.”

“Relationships require trust, Ollie. I don’t have that anymore.” And trust was something Tommy would want, would probably demand, if she gave in to his requests to try for something more. And when she couldn’t give him that, it would only fracture one of the few friendships she had left.

He deserved for his first relationship to be with someone who wasn’t still nursing a broken heart, anyway. Love wasn’t supposed to come jaded and cynical. And Tommy needed desperately to be loved by somebody with their whole heart after the childhood he had had.

“I just… I don’t want to use you.”

A fine time to worry about that now, she thought with a snort. “What about this would be using me?” Laurel finally turned around to fix him with a look. “I suggested this. I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t sure.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes searched hers, looking for some kind of hesitance, she was certain. She wanted to believe he wouldn’t be able to read her so well after all these years, but it was a vain hope.

“What I’m sure about is that this is the only way that gets both of us what we want. No strings attached. You can keep your secrets, I can keep my life the way I like it, and we both keep having some pretty great sex. At least I’d say it was.” When he couldn’t quite stop a nod, she felt herself smirk. “That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

For a moment, she thought he would say something more. That he was a changed man who wanted to respect her, that she should want more for herself than some sex and an empty apartment, that he wasn’t actually that interested in her.

Instead he drew in a breath, nodded to himself, and came the rest of the way into her space. He kissed her, one hand cupping the back of her head and stroking her hair while his body caged her in and crowded her up against the door.

She hadn’t actually meant right now. But Laurel’s mouth was too occupied to protest and her hands were sneaking up under his shirt to feel the expanse of his back, smooth and scarred in turn with muscles rippling under her touch. Her bag slipped off her shoulder to land with a _thump_ on the floor, and Oliver kicked it out of the way with his foot to press even closer.

He’d always been sure of himself when it came to sex for as long as she’d been with him. But there was a power to his every movement now that made it all the more exciting. A challenge for her to meet. The boy she’d once fallen for had been replaced by a man, and right now she couldn’t find a reason to complain.

Laurel slipped out from under his other arm, catching his hand and tugging him around toward the bed. With midday sunlight streaming through his windows, she stripped down and waited for him to do the same.

He paused, his eyes raking over her body, and licked his lips. She took a moment herself to note he was already well on his way to full arousal. Nice to know her body still did it for him. Oliver opened his mouth, but she shook her head.

“Unless it’s about a condom, shelve it for now.”

If she stopped to talk about this, she might just end up running right back out that door. And in her current state of undress, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

He did have condoms. She didn’t know what that said about him, her or maybe just the Queen staff’s assumptions, but she wasn’t going to question it. Not when it got her closer to relieving that ache he’d reignited with that kiss the previous night.

He was trying to slow things down, kissing down her body and lingering on this or that spot he knew she liked. He had them memorized, and she pressed the heels of her hands to her temples when her eyes threatened to water.

No emotions. Emotions were how she’d gotten hurt the first time. She wasn’t doing that anymore.

Laurel couldn’t actually flip them over on her own power. He was a solid block of nothing but muscle, and gravity was on his side. Any fear that might have inspired disappeared the moment he lifted off her when she pushed on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Laurel used the hand on his shoulder to guide him into turning onto his back. Then she swung a leg over him. “But you’ve forgotten how a hookup works.”

And she’d forgotten, or perhaps suppressed, just how good and _right_ it felt having him inside her until the moment she sank her hips down. There was more of a burn than she was used to, having sped things along, but that was almost better. It reminded her of the pain.

“ _Laurel._ ” Oliver groaned low in his throat, and that did something for her, too.

In the driver’s seat, so to speak, she could set the pace. She set it fast and hard because anything else would allow for talking, for kisses exchanged and sweet nothings and all the promises he’d already broken. She had to remember that, even now, or she’d be lost.

She bit her own lip to avoid saying anything out loud — regular practice from the few scattered encounters she’d had with Tommy when she’d been afraid to call out the wrong name — and Oliver’s throat bobbed once or twice as he swallowed. But he obeyed the rule; no talking, just the rocking of their bodies together like two ships crashing in the night — or day.

 _Next time is with the lights off,_ Laurel told herself, trying not to meet his blue eyes darkened with arousal as she took him in over and over again. She wasn’t going to pretend there wouldn’t be a next time; they’d made a deal and she needed this. Heart pounding, body singing out in pleasure.

Laurel was sure she looked obscene, hair falling in her face, sweat beading on her brow and collecting under her breasts as she ground down onto his hardness, but she couldn’t deny wanting this fullness and friction any more than she could have denied the irresistible pull of attraction she felt to him. She could admit to herself now what she’d been afraid of the last five years: that she was ruined for anyone else. Not fingers, not toys, and not another partner could take her apart and give her what she really needed the way he could. She felt alive for the first time in so many years, even if anyone else would say it was so, so wrong.

If he hadn’t lied, just before all this, maybe they wouldn’t be here. Or maybe they would, making love that healed the years and the past mistakes between them instead of this frantic push of their bodies. The image of that idyllic fantasy in her head undid her, and she went over the edge with a cry she couldn’t quite contain.

Her clenching around him caused him to finish, too, pulsing and hot even through the layer of latex between them.

Laurel sat there for the space of a breath. Her heart wanted nothing more than to bask in the afterglow of what they’d just done and curl up at his side for soft kisses and touching. The way they used to be. Her mind screamed at her to move, now, before she gave him too much or she was discovered here in his bed by the outside world.

Like last night, she went with her mind. She couldn’t trust her heart anymore.

\---

Laurel left right after. He’d barely gotten his breath back when she rolled right off the bed and started pulling her clothes back on.

Oliver sat up. “Laurel—”

“I’m already running late for work. I’ll just have to chalk it up as a half-day.” She shimmied into her jeans and threw her shirt on over the bra she’d clipped back into place. It was like a reverse-show in some ways. Then she used his mirror to check her hair.

“So. This.” He removed the spent condom and grabbed some sheets to pull over himself. This felt a strange conversation to have exposed, especially when she had her armor back on. “How regularly did you want this to…”

“I’m not gonna pencil it into my planner, Ollie,” she said, and he could see her roll her eyes as she applied a new coating of lipstick to cover up her kiss-bruised lips. “Just text me, or I’ll text you.”

“And is this a secret thing?” _Like you and Tommy?_ He almost said, but just barely held back. She’d been right; it wasn’t his place to say anything after what he’d done.

But she was choosing to do this with him now instead. Or maybe in addition? He was so confused.

“Let’s put it this way. I’m sure you, maybe even more so than I, do not want my father finding out. The less people that know, the less likely he is to find out.”

Oliver nodded with a grimace. “Makes sense. Are we exclusive?”

It was the wrong thing to ask. She tensed and very slowly turned around. “I wasn’t going to try and hold you to that.”

His eyes closed briefly. He deserved it, Lord knew, but the lack of trust, of warmth from her almost hurt worse now that they’d just shared in such closeness. He couldn’t even really call it intimacy because of how much she was withholding and keeping from him. His fault.

“I’m not seeing anyone else. And I don’t plan to.” It was a risk, admitting that. It eliminated an easy excuse he could give as to where he was at times when conducting his mission. But he needed her to know. It was important to him that she know he’d changed at least that much.

“Neither do I.” Her gaze was unreadable as it lingered on him. Then she looked away. “So, you have my number. I’ll see you when I see you.” With that, she left his room.

Oliver hung his head. What was he doing?

He’d wanted to be with Laurel for so long, and doubly so upon returning from the island. But his need to start the mission early had forced him to push her away even as he couldn’t resist being near her. Insisting on her as his lawyer for his case against Detective Lance was just one of many examples.

He had thought she would get fed up with his back and forth. But this?

It was practical, and in that sense, maybe he should have expected it. He should be glad for it, even. Laurel was giving him carte blanche to continue his commitment to the mission while still maintaining a physical relationship with her. The physical, however, was only part of the full life he truly wanted with Laurel.

Saying no to this arrangement would have been to lose her, he knew that. Saying yes was affirming her belief that sex was all she was able to give a partner and all he was able to give her. Oliver wasn’t sure in the aftermath of what had just happened which would have been the worst call to make. But it hadn’t been a choice; he was too selfish to give any bit of her up that he was allowed.

He shook his head and started collecting his own clothes from the floor, pulling them back on mechanically. It was time to get back to the base since he’d been forced to remain at the house long enough.

His bodyguard and recently recruited partner in the mission was waiting down in the sitting room and stood up as Oliver approached.

“You and Laurel were up there a long time,” Digg noted. Oliver tensed, waiting for the question. “Does she know now?”

“Know? Oh,” he realized a second later. “No. She asked, but I didn’t tell her the truth.”

“Why not?”

Oliver shook his head, indicating that conversation wasn’t for here. He did his best to explain his reasoning on the drive to the foundry. If Laurel knew, she would be an accomplice to his crimes and a target for his enemies he continued to make. He also wondered if she would want anything to do with him if she knew the kind of monster he’d become in his time away. His scars weren’t all the result of being a victim.

She hadn’t gasped or flinched away from his scars the second time his chest had been exposed to her. In fact, her hands had splayed over them as she’d ridden him like her life depended on it. Watching her body swaying back and forth above him had been an intoxicating kind of torture as no matter how much he had wanted to reach up and caress her, pull her closer, worship her breasts with his mouth and his tongue, he wouldn’t have been permitted.

It wouldn’t do well to reflect back on their brief time together this morning while he was preparing to work out, so Oliver forced himself to push the memory to the back of his head.

Laurel didn’t contact him for the next several days, but he realized soon enough that it wasn’t out of some kind of regret; CNRI was in danger of closing unless Tommy could pull off a miracle with his fundraiser. Though Oliver was plenty busy with the Reston family and their attempts at getting even for the wrongs his father had done them, he was determined to put in an appearance nonetheless.

Laurel was acting the perfect ambassador for the legal aid office. Greeting everyone as they came in, smiling at Tommy and dancing with Carter Bowen. It twisted something in his gut, and he went towards the refreshments. Not that he could afford a drink in case the Royal Flush Gang did make their move tonight, but food was a fine distraction on its own.

Except then he was joined by Laurel. “God, I forgot how exhausting these things are.”

He felt himself smirk. “Really? From what I remember, we usually found an excuse to leave the society functions early, or at least find somewhere more private.”

“That an offer?”

Oliver barely kept himself from turning towards her in shock. “You—”

“Not- I don’t mean we—” She let out a frustrated groan. “Tommy threw this thing for me, which was very sweet of him but I hate that I’m expected to just be the prize and become his girlfriend over it, you know?”

Oh. Tommy wanted more than just the hookups he had had with her. “If he’d asked you out directly, would you want to go out with him?” He needed to know exactly where Laurel stood on this, if she was just coming to him to run away from commitment the way he once had. If he could help her not to repeat his own mistakes—

“No,” said Laurel, cutting right through his thoughts. “He needs to find somebody new and uncomplicated. I mean I am willing to sleep with you after _everything_ that happened with Sara.” She drained her drink. “There’s got to be something seriously wrong with me, and I’d rather he just realize that now then later.”

Again with putting herself down. The Laurel he had always known had been confident, self-assured and positive. The way he had once been as well, whether it had been earned or not. How they had both changed.

Oliver knew, of course, exactly where Tommy was in the room the same way he knew where everyone else was, particularly those of interest. His years away had drilled that exercise into his head. Always be aware of the surroundings.

So he knew Tommy was watching Laurel intently and that he would see when Oliver placed a hand on her back and slowly slid it downwards.

What Tommy couldn’t see was the look he exchanged with her and the question in his eyes. The tiniest of nods she gave back to him and the slight hitch in her breath when he squeezed her ass. The way the hair on Oliver’s arms and the back of his neck stood up in response to that little gasp and the sudden dryness of his throat.

In the reflection of the mirror standing behind the refreshments table, Oliver watched his friend’s expression darken before he departed out a side door.

“I think he got the message,” Oliver said, his voice coming out gruffer than he’d meant it to. He was desperate for a drink now for a variety of reasons.

“I’m sorry for bringing you into it,” Laurel said, her gaze on the ground.

“I was always going to be part of it, wasn’t I?”

She looked up at him and slowly nodded. And there was emotion welling up in her eyes, the kind he had been longing for. Finding somewhere private suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world.

Across the room, Diggle caught his eye and gestured to the outside. Oliver barely held in a curse.

“I’m gonna have to leave a little early. Alone,” he had to clarify.

“Okay.” Laurel took a step back and like that, her more distant demeanor resumed. “Thank you for supporting the fundraiser.”

“Of course.” He turned and hurried from the building, not having any more time to linger when he had a robbery to stop. Maybe after, he could see if Laurel was home from the benefit and interested in partaking in their new arrangement.

But then Derek Reston died trying to save his son, and physical pleasure was the last thing on Oliver’s mind. The aching need to see Laurel, to speak to her and receive some form of comfort, was still there.

But that wasn’t what they were now. They couldn’t be, because he had to keep her safe, too.

\---

Laurel left the main room for some fresh air, needing it after that charged moment. How could there be countless people in a room, yet he always made it seem like it was just the two of them? She smoothed her dress down, but it did little to erase the imprint of his touch in her mind. This was getting dangerous.

But out in the side alley, Tommy was helping a clearly inebriated Thea into his car. Judging by the way he didn’t even look up at her approach, he had definitely seen it as Oliver said. Too late now.

“Is she alright?” Laurel called out anyway.

“She will be once Raisa gets her to bed,” Tommy answered in a clipped tone.

“I’m really sorry,” Thea mumbled for what sounded like not the first time. Laurel and Tommy both reassured her before he shut the passenger door.

“Tommy, thank you for organizing this fundraiser. It’s going to help a lot of people.” Even if she suspected that wasn’t why he’d done it.

He confirmed that a moment later by saying, “Yeah, all except me.”

Laurel pursed her lips. “Do we need to talk about this?”

He shook his head. “Laurel, if you wanted my opinion on your life choices, you would have asked me before you started letting Ollie feel you up again. Or danced with Carter Bowen of all people.”

She rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows Carter’s an ass, Tommy, but he also cut CNRI one of the biggest checks of the night. Was I supposed to ignore him?”

“You were supposed to—” he cut himself off and looked down. When he finally raised his head again, his eyes were beseeching. “Why him and not me?”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about Carter.

“Because he won’t get hurt. And because he can’t hurt me anymore than he already has,” she answered honestly. “It’s not about wanting or not wanting to date you, Tommy. I don’t want to date anyone.”

“Because he hurt you,” he pointed out. His fist balled where he rested his arm on the roof of his car. “I knew the minute he came back that this, this would happen.”

“If you knew then why try?”

“You could be better.”

“But that’s not your job.” When Tommy blinked at her in surprise, she sighed. “I know I’m a mess. I know I haven’t handled the last five years the best or healthiest way. And you helped me through some of that. But I don’t want our friendship to turn into you just pushing and pulling at me to be whatever vision of ‘fine’ is suitable to the rest of the world. That’s not what I want, and you’ll only grow to hate me for not being fine already.”

“So you’ll settle for the guy who takes what he can get,” Tommy summarized.

“He’s just as much a mess as I am,” she pointed out. “Better to keep us away from the rest of you, don’t you think?”

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Alright. Guess I should have known. It’s you and Ollie, and it always has been. I just hope you don’t regret this.”

“I’m a big girl, Tommy. I can handle disappointment.”

“I wish I was as grown up as you are,” he remarked, his grin faltering. He patted the roof of the car with both hands and said, “I better get her home.”

“Drive safe.”

“Sure. And you’re welcome,” he added just as he opened the driver’s door. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re not gonna be unemployed.”

Laurel nodded, just managing a tight smile for him. She turned and left as the car started up, heading back inside for her things. Their boss and the others could handle thanking the other guests on their way out. For now, she was past tired.

So much for no one knowing. But she wouldn’t have been able to keep turning Tommy down without eventually telling him why, so better to get it out of the way. She just hoped his and Oliver’s friendship could survive this.

Laurel went back to her regular routine of work and more work before collapsing in bed. She was determined not to be the first to reach out to arrange a rendezvous; after suggesting it in the first place, she didn’t want to sound too eager or desperate. Better not to let him know how much he could still affect her, even if she was afraid he might have gotten just a glimpse of that at the fundraiser.

It wasn’t as if he wasn’t busy. Setting aside his preparations for the nightclub he was opening in the Glades, the following week saw Mrs. Queen caught up in a shooting incident. Oliver’s mother was fortunately alright from what she’d heard from the news, but she was sure it had rattled her family. So Laurel would give him space and wait things out.

Not that she was planning to sit idle while she waited. Laurel went and renewed the gym membership she’d let lapse several Februarys ago and added working out to her routine of work. It wasn’t like he’d said or done anything to indicate she was less than in shape — quite the opposite — but Laurel could admit to herself that she felt a little self-conscious with a partner who looked like he’d been carved out of the island rock, scars and all. And he’d been back for nearing two months now, so he was clearly choosing to keep his body in that condition rather than let himself return to a body type not needed for survival in harsh conditions. Which meant that physical fitness held some importance to him.

Not that she was doing this for him. She’d been looking for an excuse to get back into the swing of things, that was all. And she actually found it helped expel some of that frustrated energy she’d been carrying inside ever since Oliver had come back from the dead. Some of it, anyway.

That remaining itch she couldn’t quite scratch by herself got some relief when she was perhaps least expecting it.

Laurel had been in bed for somewhere over a few hours, asleep for a little less than half that time, when her phone started buzzing on her bedside table, rousing her from vague and pleasant dreams. She fumbled for it and didn’t even check the caller ID before answering.

“Hello?”

_“Are you awake right now?”_

“Right now, yes.” Laurel rubbed at both eyes with a hand as she sat up.

She thought she heard Oliver mutter something to himself. _“You were sleeping. I should have realized—”_

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense. I’m up. What was so important?” She got out from under the covers, stuffing her feet into slippers and throwing on her bathrobe. Laurel turned on her bedside lamp for good measure as well. Better to get up and avoid the temptation to just curl back up in her blankets while she waited for her brain to come back online.

_“It’s — I just needed to see you.”_

Laurel felt a little jump in her heart she couldn’t quite repress. “Is everything okay? And where are you?”

She frowned down the hall at her front door, because she almost thought she could make out the low murmur of a male voice on the other side.

Oliver let out a breath that was almost a laugh. _“That’s the thing. I just had to—”_

Laurel marched down the hall and yanked her door open.

“—see you,” he finished with the phone to his ear on her doorstep. He shoved it back in his pocket, a relieved smile overtaking his features. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He was fully dressed and looked totally awake. What kind of hours did he keep?

Laurel stepped back to let him through, closing the door. “So.” She said, turning around and watching his shoulders slowly lose their tension. In the low lighting, the shape of him in his leather jacket was dark yet soothingly familiar for some reason. “Was there something you needed?”

“Yes,” he said, stepping in close and tucking some of her bedhead hair behind an ear. “You.”

Then his head ducked down to capture her lips. Laurel responded, her arms going around his neck. She was half-convinced this was just another one of those dreams she’d been having.

That was why she let him take his time, she’d tell herself later. Why she stroked the short hairs at the base of his neck while their mouths explored each other’s. Why she sighed as he undid the belt of her robe, and why she moaned as he mouthed over her breasts through the thin cotton of her shirt.

It was all just sex. Even if it wasn’t quick and rough, it didn’t have to mean anything if they didn’t want it to. It was still just two people mutually seeking their own pleasure together. And Ollie was definitely receiving pleasure from these teasing acts judging by the bulge in his jeans when she felt her way down there. Laurel rubbed him, groaning as his teeth caught a nipple.

Two could play at that game, Laurel thought to herself, slowly walking them back towards her bedroom. Oliver followed her every step, helping to slowly discard their clothing along the way. If he was waking her up in the middle of the night, she was going to make sure it was worth it.

\---

Oliver wiped the first three fingers of his right hand on a tissue and tossed it and the condom in the trash can by Laurel’s bed as he rolled onto his back. He couldn’t resist keeping one arm around her as he went so that she rolled into him. Still coming down from their shared high, Laurel proved compliant with the move, relaxing into his side. He was blurring the lines a bit with this post-coital embrace, but he couldn’t help it after what he’d nearly done.

What had almost happened tonight between him and Helena Bertinelli.

Oliver hadn’t expected to find so much to relate to in the mobster’s daughter, and the discovery that she was leading a double life like he was seemed to make them kindred spirits. But as they had moved towards one another, he had remembered Laurel’s resigned words: _“I wasn’t going to try and hold you to that.”_

He had backed away from Helena, raising a hand up between them. “I’m sorry, but I… can’t.”

She’d blinked her dark eyes open. “Why not?”

“I’m committed to someone. It wouldn’t be right.” It wasn’t and never should have been Laurel’s job to hold him faithful. It was his, and he wasn’t about to fail now just because she was giving him the option to.

Helena had pursed her lips. “I would have thought the papers would be going gaga over the city’s prodigal son finding romance.”

“It’s not a public relationship. For her sake more so than mine.” He could only imagine the way the tabloids would tear into Laurel if they learned what was happening. And that would seem like nothing compared to her father. She was risking so much, it was hard to buy this meant nothing to her — but how could someone like him mean anything to anyone?

“I see. Well, thanks for the honesty.” Helena had backed off then. “I like to know I’m not being played with.”

While he was sure that wouldn’t be the last he’d see of her — her reckless behavior in the field would cause more harm than good in the long run, though her knowledge of his identity would only complicate matters — he’d been glad to leave with his personal pledge to Laurel unbroken. The need to see her had overwhelmed him in the aftermath, and he’d found himself speeding to her apartment before his common sense could tell him how late it had to be.

When she’d answered his call anyway and let him into her home, he had devoted himself to loving her body — and hers alone — with his own. If she weren't so lethargic with sleep still, he’d be tempted to continue on even more. In the moments before climax, he could forget all the various fronts he had to put up to the people in his life and just be a man joined with a woman he loved.

 _Gorgeous,_ he thought to himself as he stroked her bare shoulder with the pad of his thumb. She arched into the touch, smiling and flush with pleasure.

“One of these days we have to do this at a normal time,” she half-mumbled into his chest.

He couldn’t stop a chuckle. “I’ll make a note of that.”

It was quiet between them for several moments. “Ollie?”

He hummed once in acknowledgement.

Laurel tilted her head up to look at him. “This _is_ just sex, right?”

Oliver paused, his hand halfway through stroking down her back. “Yeah,” he managed to force out. “It’s just sex.”

“Okay.” Her eyes closed, and for a moment he thought she would simply drop off to sleep. Then she sighed and said, “I should just get my shower now so I have that out of the way before work tomorrow.” Laurel left his arms and the bed, not even bothering to cover up on her walk to the bathroom. It took everything in him to tear his eyes away from the swaying of her hips. In the five years he had been gone, she’d fully matured into her sensual curves, and he doubted she even realized how alluring she was.

He knew there was an implicit request that he be gone by the time she emerged, and the contented bubble in his chest slowly deflated. Oliver swung his legs over the side of the bed and prepared to look for his various articles of clothing.

“Hey,” Laurel said, making him look up. “Whatever you came here needing to work out, I hope this helped.”

She couldn’t not be herself, could she? Oliver smiled. “It did. Thank you.”

Laurel’s fingers drummed against the doorframe once. “What are friends for?” Then she shut herself into the bathroom. A few moments later, he heard the water start up.

Oliver ended up having to turn her overhead light on as well to find both of his socks and boxers but made sure to flick the switch off again on his way out, leaving only the bedside lamp on. In its low glow, Laurel had looked practically decadent laid underneath him with her dark hair fanned out on the pillows, chest heaving and legs hooked around his waist as he’d lost himself in her warm, tight center… but that was a thought for another time.

He did a double-take at his reflection in the panel of elevator buttons, feeling along his neck for the dark bruise forming there. Oliver smirked to himself; probably no one would believe, of the two of them, that she was the biter. But he’d happily carry her mark over all the others his body now bore, temporary as it was.

After waking late in the morning back at the Manor, he was forced to contend with Helena far sooner than he’d wanted to. Her increasingly high-profile kills in the Bertinelli organization threatened to ignite a mob war between them and the Triad, convinced as Frank Bertinelli was that they were the masterminds behind Helena’s vendetta. Oliver tried reasoning and bargaining with the other would-be vigilante before he was forced to confront her on her father’s lawn. Helena escaped before the police could catch her, and all his surveillance pointed to her having left the city for now. Frustrating as having her on the loose was, it offered him a brief reprieve from having to deal with the woman who knew his identity.

“So where did you go that first night she learned your secret anyway?” Diggle asked him in the middle of a sparring session in the foundry. “The staff told me you didn’t get back to the house till it was practically dawn. You didn’t…”

“No,” Oliver immediately dismissed, glad he could say so rather than face his partner’s judgment.

“But you’re seeing someone.”

“What makes you say that?” He easily ducked under Digg’s next attack and hit the man’s exposed side, leaning back against a table as he watched his friend regain his breath.

“Cause you’ve been acting way too relaxed for someone as tightly wound as you were when we first met.”

Oliver grimaced. It was true that with his increased time spent around Laurel — and in Laurel’s bed — he found it harder to let the rest of life’s troubles get to him as much. A part of him started to wonder if he would end up losing his edge if he wasn’t careful. Then again, he hadn’t slept so well in ages.

“I’ve made arrangements,” was all he told the other man before heading over to consult the list for his next course of action.

It hit him late in December that it was even December, much less the holidays, and as a result he decided to try and bring a little of the Christmas spirit back into his family home to a general lack of enthusiasm. The night of the party, the house was decorated and filled with people, and he even managed to corral his family into a photo before they all branched off to different areas of the house.

Oliver found himself heading towards the fireplace where he caught sight of Laurel in a red dress that seemed designed to show off both her arms and her cleavage, while still remaining tasteful to the high class company they were keeping. Perhaps they could finally indulge in their old practice of slipping away from the party early.

His steps slowed, however, as he realized Tommy had beaten him to approaching her.

“...found this, and I thought, ‘hey, it’s Christmas’,” Tommy was saying as Oliver drew nearer. Laurel opened a small box and froze as she looked at whatever was inside. Her face paled, and the look in her eyes was haunted in a way Oliver didn’t like at all.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Hey, you two. Merry Christmas.”

His friends both echoed the greeting, though Tommy kept his gaze pointedly downward and Laurel eyed him and the gift in her hand before saying, “Excuse me.” She quickly hurried off.

Oliver turned toward Tommy. “What just happened?”

Tommy finally glanced up at him. “I found something in my things while I was moving that I thought she should have.”

Oliver had more than one question — why Tommy was moving came to mind — but he kept his focus where it needed to be on Laurel. “What was it?”

“A photo of her family. Geez, Ollie, you can lighten up on the interrogation.”

Oliver winced and stepped back. Even with the slightly awkward place their friendship was at, he never wanted to use the things he had learned in his time away on his friend. Not now that he could help it, anyway.

“I’m gonna check on her,” he muttered instead, turning and leaving the room. Oliver found Laurel struggling into her coat out in the foyer, one hand still clutching the photograph Tommy had gifted her. A glimpse showed him three faces — Laurel, her father and Sara. He shut his eyes briefly.

“Laurel?”

She sniffled, turning her back to him. “I’m not sure you’re the best person to have this conversation with, Ollie.”

“Maybe not,” he freely admitted. “But I am here. If you need me.”

There was a long silence. “It’s not that I’ve forgotten. I couldn’t. But I just… what would she think of me? Of this?”

He looked down. “I don’t know.”

“I wish she was here.”

“So do I.” He stepped closer. “I hate myself so much for taking her away from you. If I could have saved her, I would have. I- I tried—”

“What do you mean?” Laurel looked around at him, her eyes teary but none having escaped. “I thought it was all too quick for you to do anything.”

The words sat heavy in his chest. Should he? Would it only hurt more? Or was this one piece of honesty he could give her?

“Laurel… there’s something I need to tell you about the island.”

Her eyes widened, surprised yet receptive. He could only hope he wasn’t about to just drive her further from him.

“Mr. Queen.”

“What, Diggle?” He snapped, turning around to face his bodyguard in the archway. The minute he glimpsed Digg’s face, he knew this wasn’t some trivial interruption.

“There’s something you need to attend to in the drawing room.”

“Okay,” he said, breathing out. “Just- just one minute.” Oliver turned back to Laurel. “I’m sorry. I need to take care of something. I promise, the next time we can talk, I’ll tell you.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Unable to stop himself, he leaned in, brushing his lips against her cheek and the corner of her mouth. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, the hand he had placed on her arm for balance trailing down it before letting go. Some part of him noted an increased definition to her muscle tone there, but it was filed far in the back of his mind. Too much to think about, and Laurel didn’t rank anywhere on his lists of potential threats.

“Merry Christmas,” Laurel echoed softly as he turned his back to her. He wished he didn’t have to leave her like this, but as he quickly learned, others needed him.

But as he lay on the ground of an alley bleeding from multiple wounds not an hour later, he wondered if he would ever get the chance to see Laurel again.

\---

After it had become clear whatever matter Oliver was seeing to was unlikely to be cleared up anytime soon, Laurel returned to her apartment rather than continue to loiter in the Queen’s foyer. She set Tommy’s gift on her mantle, pacing about and occasionally sitting only to get up and pace some more.

The grief and the anger whenever she thought too hard about Sara were back, only now there was guilt added in, too, just to spice things up a little. She’d known, going in, just how bad it might look to anyone else what she was doing with Oliver. And maybe Sara would call her a hypocrite and they could finally laugh about the whole thing were she here. But she wasn’t.

And Ollie knew something more about that.

He’d said her sister hadn’t suffered the night of the shipwreck. Had that been a lie to make her feel better? Laurel had known he was lying to her about something, of course, but this hadn’t been anything she had considered. If only he hadn’t been called away, she’d know what he’d wanted to tell her.

That he wanted to tell her at all had to count for something, too, her traitorous heart tried to argue. Laurel threw herself down onto the furniture, shaking her head at herself.

She fell into a fitful sleep on her couch and only woke up thanks to the sunlight that streamed through the open curtains in her living room. Laurel rubbed at her stiff neck as she leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote to check the news and weather.

Instead she received a shock.

 _“Oliver Queen has been hospitalized after a vehicular accident, reports say,”_ the morning newscaster said. Laurel sat up. _“The heir to the Queen fortune was hit by a truck while riding his motorcycle. Sources have confirmed Queen was admitted to Starling General late last night and spent a significant time in both surgery and the ICU. His condition has since stabilized, but he will remain in the hospital until further notice.”_

“Oh God,” Laurel breathed, stumbling to her feet. She hurried to grab her coat and keys, only realizing halfway to the hospital that she was in the same clothes from the party last night. Too late to do anything about that. She’d worry about her appearance and anything else after she’d made sure he was going to be okay.

She gave her name at the help desk and was directed up to Oliver’s room, though the door was shut. Laurel knocked once and slipped inside, looking up to see Oliver’s bodyguard sitting in the bedside chair and Oliver himself under the hospital sheets, his eyes closed.

“Is he…?” She whispered when Mr. Diggle looked up at her.

“He just got to sleep a little bit ago.”

“Oh. I should — I’ll come back some other time when he’s awake,” Laurel said, turning back for the door.

“It’s you he’s been with, isn’t it?”

Laurel froze, her hand on the knob. She looked back at Mr. Diggle, who was watching her with a calm, but knowing gaze.

“He didn’t tell you himself?” It wouldn’t have been unusual for a bodyguard to know the more private rendezvous his client conducted.

“He doesn’t tell me a lot of things, Miss Lance.”

Laurel felt her lips curve in a wry smile. “You too?” She stepped away from the door, her eyes landing on Oliver’s still form. The bandages that covered him and the machines that monitored his vitals, ensuring he was alive.

“I know it’s hopeless. He hurt me the worst way possible, our families can never really get along and I’ll never be able to trust him fully so long as I know he’s holding so many secrets.” Like why his errand to check on something in the drawing room had led him to be outside on his bike on a wintry night. She was sure even if she asked him once he’d woken, she wouldn’t get a straight answer.

“But I can’t change how I feel. Even if I wanted to, and believe me, for a long time I really, really did. But I need this. I need him.” She finally looked back at Mr. Diggle again. “Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“You should tell him yourself,” he said to her pointedly. 

Laurel sighed. “Maybe.” Slowly, she walked forward, leaning over the bed to press her lips to his forehead. Oliver slept on. She left the room after that, not having anything else to say.

And there was nothing to say to Oliver for a long time. He was busy with his recovery and physical therapy, then with his family after Mr. Steele’s unexpected disappearance. Laurel kept herself busy with work and with her gym regimen; she had stepped it up by looking up common training routines for people recovering from Oliver’s type of injuries, wanting to see how much he was putting into his efforts to get back to his usual condition. Usual for the new him, anyway.

Needless to say, she was exhausted more often than not. But it was gratifying nonetheless to push herself as far as she could in this bizarre one-sided solidarity since she couldn’t be the caring girlfriend at his bedside.

Laurel caught herself fantasizing once or twice about what a caring girlfriend might do for her laid up boyfriend and resigned herself to cold showers for the interim so long as her mind kept drifting at inappropriate times to reverse cowgirl positions and the increase in stamina that went along with increased fitness. She hadn’t realized what waking her libido back up would do to her, but after so many years of just going through the motions of life it was like her body had taken the reigns with a vengeance and was demanding its every want and need be sated. Those wants and needs just seemed to coincide with her former boyfriend a staggering amount of the time.

These breaks between their meetings had her wondering if they stayed with Oliver the same way they did with her or not. Was he thinking about her, and did it send heat rushing through his body? How many times had he taken himself in hand and stroked his cock, imagining it to be her? Would he have indulged that want even on the island in some quiet, stolen moment?

She retired to her bed early a couple nights with her vibrator whenever those thoughts cropped up, but if anything they seemed to return all the more intense the next day.

Laurel didn’t know if these new, wilder and more vivid fantasies were part of some new lease on life or what, having considered her sexual tastes rather tame until now. Even her hookups with Tommy had been very vanilla, and had occurred only a few times scattered over a year or so. At the rate she was going with Ollie, they would soon blow past that record and then lap it several times over. A fact that only excited her more.

Where before she had looked down her nose at the people who extolled the values of frequent sex, now she couldn’t seem to get enough of it. She ran a number of excuses over in her head as to why she might need to drop by the Queen Manor unexpectedly, but they all sounded contrived and like a very thin cover for sex. It was bad enough Ollie knew a little of the pull her had on her; she didn’t exactly want to advertise to the rest of his family how needy she was. So she kept herself in check.

At work, things took a turn for the tragic as her father showed up one morning with the news that Joanna’s brother had perished in a fire. Her friend’s insistence that there was something underhanded about it forced her into borrowing evidence from her dad to contact the absent-as-of-late Hood. To her surprise, he answered and even showed up at her apartment.

More bizarrely, Oliver showed up at the fire station when she went to clean out Danny’s locker and question Chief Raynes.

“Ollie?”

“Hey. I’m glad I ran into you — there’s something Tommy and I wanted to ask you about.”

“You and Tommy?” She echoed doubtfully.

“Yeah.” The fingers of Oliver’s right hand twitched. “After the bike accident we sort of patched things up, and basically we’re going into the club business together now since he’s been looking for work. His dad, uh, cut him off.”

“I had no idea.” Laurel wished she could say she’d simply been too busy, but the truth was she’d been largely avoiding Tommy.

Oliver seemed to understand that with his sympathetic gaze. “I didn’t either until he told me. But I saw on the news about the firefighter that died. De la Vega? That’s your coworker’s name, right?”

“He was her brother, yeah.”

Oliver nodded. “Right. Tommy got the idea that we could use the club space before we officially open to hold another benefit for the families of the firefighters.”

Laurel smiled. “That would be really nice. That’s sweet of both of you.” Most of the time when Oliver and Tommy put their heads together, it only spelled trouble; every so often, they encouraged each other’s better natures, and the result was always a privilege to witness. And it relieved her to know her actions, unintentional as a lot of them had been, hadn’t caused the two to permanently lose their friendship.

Trouble ended up finding the benefit later that week anyway; the man who had been killing the firefighters, a former firefighter who had been disfigured in the Nodell Tower Fire, attacked the event, and Laurel barely got out alive. Tommy had to drag her kicking and screaming out of the building when they were separated from Oliver.

She had been treated for smoke inhalation by the time Oliver was located, and it took everything in her not to run to him and jump him in front of the whole crowd. Laurel spent the time waiting for him to receive treatment by giving her statement to the police. Then waited impatiently for him to give his own corroborating her witnessing Garfield Lyns alive despite his supposed death.

“I should be able to handle the rest,” Captain Raynes told them. “You should both get home.”

“We will,” Laurel promised. She grabbed Oliver’s hand and dragged him off towards her car, which fortunately along with the rest of the lot had been unharmed.

“Are we going home?” Oliver asked as she opened her door and motioned for him to get in the passenger side.

“We’re going to my place,” she answered. If that didn’t get the message across, she wasn’t sure what would.

Traffic was a pain, made worse by the shifting she kept having to do in the driver’s seat to try and alleviate some of that building anticipation and want. She’d never been so glad to see her apartment garage, and hurried them into the elevator after parking.

Throwing her keys in the dish on the table by the front door, she abandoned all pretense of composure. Laurel grabbed his face and kissed him, hard enough to bruise. Each kiss was punctuated by a short statement.

“Don’t die on me. Not again. You just can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured back. “Didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m sorry I—”

Laurel reached down and undid his belt buckle and fly, pulling his pants down.

“Protection, Laurel,” he cautioned her, and she growled in her throat before stalking off for the bedroom. She found Oliver in the same spot in her living room as though he hadn’t been sure what to do with her sudden departure. Laurel tossed him the condom and shoved him onto the couch before shimmying out of her dampened underwear, hiking up her dress and straddling him.

“ _God,_ Laurel.”

“Put it on, Ollie. I need this.” She kissed down his neck as she waited for him to finish rolling the condom over himself, then breathed out a sigh as he guided himself to her entrance and eased into her. She was slick enough already that he slid all the way in to the base of him, and they both hissed at that feeling of completeness.

He was dead then alive again, nearly killed over and over since coming home. He was a liar and a cheat, but he was hers and, God help her, being with him in these moments was the only time her life felt right. They were both alive and safe and in each other’s arms. The rest could wait.

He was also fully recovered from the bike accident judging by the way his hips pushed up into her over and over, rolling with power behind every thrust. She wasn’t so much riding him as being lifted like the weights he had to be doing to keep in his kind of shape, and it was unbelievably hot. Laurel also wanted the name of his trainer, but that was one of the last rational thoughts she had as her pleasure mounted higher and higher.

“I need, need — _oh,_ yes,” she moaned when he moved one hand to that bundle of nerves that drove her crazy.

His other hand was buried in her hair, stroking it as he pressed kisses all along her cleavage. His lips moved against her skin and whatever he was whispering felt like a prayer.

When she finished with a cry muffled into his shoulder, he only thrust up twice before stilling inside her, still erect. Laurel gasped with the effort of coming down from her orgasm, thrumming with pleasure.

“Better?” He asked, petting her hair.

“Yes.” She squirmed a little and lifted herself off of him, loathe to leave but feeling just the wrong side of overstimulated. “But we’re clearly not done.”

“I can — Laurel?” He asked, raising his eyebrows as she slid off the couch. When she parted his legs to kneel between them, he seemed to get it. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You bought me time to get out safely. I owe you one.” And then she swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock.

Besides the latex, there was the taste of _her_ all over the length of him. Laurel licked it up with a hum and felt both of his hands grip her hair. Distantly, she thought she heard the _thunk_ of his head hitting the back of the couch. Or maybe the wall.

“ _Lord_ ,” he choked out. “You’re gorgeous… gorgeous, Laurel.”

She really only managed a couple licks and one suck before he was coming with a shout. She backed off as his hips jerked once or twice in the aftermath and he panted like a man who had just been let up for air for the first time in his memory.

“Sorry,” she said, patting his thigh. “I’d been thinking about that.”

“You had?” When she blushed and looked away, her reached down for her hands. “When do I get to do all the things I’ve thought about with you?”

Laurel swallowed. “Maybe after we talk about some things? Like you promised two months ago?” She stood up, heading to her kitchen for a glass of water.

When he joined her, he’d cleaned himself up and tucked himself back into his pants. They both still smelled like smoke, she realized dimly. “You’re right. I promised, and I haven’t followed through. It’s easier to just not think about it, a lot of the time.”

She eyed him over her glass, contributing nothing. Waiting for him.

Oliver breathed out once and said, “I saw Sara after the _Gambit_ went down.”

Laurel had to grip her kitchen counter to keep her trembling legs from failing her. “She survived?”

“Initially. I didn’t say this in my statement because we- we tried to get home using another boat. It belonged to someone who… he’d rescued Sara from the water but wasn’t a good person.”

“Was he one of the people that tortured you?” Laurel asked in a small voice. Had her _sister_ been tortured?

Oliver’s closed eyes told her all she needed to know.

“The escape didn’t go as planned. The boat sank and- and I still couldn’t get to her in time. She went over on the opposite side from me and she wasn’t recovered like I was. That was the last I actually saw of her.”

Laurel set the glass down to avoid dropping it as she processed. Her sister had survived the initial shipwreck the way she had hoped and prayed for, only to perish in a second one. “Did she say anything about- about what happened?”

“All she wanted was to get home to all of you. She missed her family so much. I wanted so badly to make that happen, and that I didn’t—”

Laurel strode forward and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Thank you. I know you did everything you could.”

Slowly, he brought his own arms around her, his one hand cradling the back of her head. A few of her tears slipped out but she managed to keep it together.

“You’re both wrong. You and my father. You didn’t kill Sara.”

“I did by inviting her—”

“Did your father kill you by inviting you?” When he didn’t answer, she leaned back. “Yes, you have made mistakes in your life, Oliver, but you’re not as bad as you believe yourself to be.”

For some reason, he withdrew from her hold. “You wouldn’t say that if you — I should get home. My family will be worrying, and I’ve kept them waiting long enough.”

“Sure,” Laurel said, a lump rising in her throat as he left the kitchen, and her front door opened and closed a moment later. She had forgotten herself and tried to open up — only to be reminded just why she shouldn’t.

Why couldn’t he just tell her the whole truth?

\---

Oliver hated himself for leaving. Just when he and Laurel had finally been talking. But then her assertion that he wasn’t a bad person had reminded him — she couldn’t know just what he’d really become.

Would she be so eager to sleep with a killer? Would she want him then, or would she be repulsed by him? The longer this went on, it was harder for him to say and harder for him to just tell her what he should probably have told her in the first place.

Because he couldn’t lose her. Her home, her kiss, her touch were a refuge from the rest of his life and one he was addicted to now. If Laurel found out and rejected him, it was hard to say what the point had been to him reassuming the life of Oliver Queen was at all.

His mother was disappointed by him more often than not. Thea resented his shortcomings and refused to quit her partying and pill-popping lifestyle — and it nearly killed her the night of her 18th birthday.

He found himself at Laurel’s apartment again, this time to ask for a favor to help his sister. She’d gone to the hearing, so some part of her had to care, at the very least for Thea.

When she agreed to asking her father, he kissed her without thinking. Laurel didn’t push him away, but drew back after a moment. “Are we…?”

In her thin tank top and shorts, he wanted nothing more. But he would be late for his audience with the local Bratva if he stayed, and it was best not to go into one of those meetings feeling too relaxed and happy. The delayed gratification, the denial of it even, would almost do him better.

So he shook his head. “Later. I have to go.”

That night, his attempt to track the Count didn’t go so well when the meeting was busted by the police, and the Count managed to inject him with Vertigo itself. Diggle had to get him back to the base and the island herbs to try and start any kind of detox process.

On his back and strapped to a table, he struggled to make it through the night, seeing things in his sleep and half-wakefulness. Shadowy figures coming to hurt him, the Count’s taunting voice and Laurel. Naked and sitting astride him.

“Just let me in, Ollie,” she whispered in his ear, voice tinged with lust. “I’ve let you in _so_ many times. Is this all we’re ever going to be?”

“I want to… Laurel…”

“Tell me all about what you want, Ollie. I want it, too.” She tossed her hair, hands trailing down his chest. “I want _everything._ ”

His hips raised, seeking the phantom sensation, but met nothing but air. He blinked, the illusion broken.

“Digg?” He called out when he could find his voice.

His friend appeared from the other end of the base to undo his restraints. “Welcome back. You sweated about half a swimming pool last night. Things started getting a little weird, so I gave you some space.”

“Weird?”

“Just tell her, man,” Diggle said point-blank. 

Oliver’s cheeks reddened as the vision of Laurel threatened to manifest again, and he felt himself hardening in response. He turned the other way on the table, keeping his back to Diggle. Everything turned blurry for a moment with the movement. “I need…”

“Need what, Oliver?”

Laurel. No, wait, the Count? He had to stop him, for Thea. But Laurel… God, he needed her. He felt ready to burst with just the touch of her hand. Where would she be, at home? CNRI? It didn’t matter. He had to see her.

He swayed off the table and only stayed upright because Diggle caught his shoulder. “Let’s get you home, man. You’re not well.”

Oliver shook his her in protest. “Laurel.”

“Yeah, you’d be doing a lot of explaining if she saw you right now. Save it till you’re sober.”

He rode out another fainting spell before he could even try to refocus on the Count. They managed to track down the information they needed to locate the dealer, and Oliver put a stop to his operations.

He also delivered Thea to her first shift at CNRI where he and Laurel playfully discussed what time his sister should be picked up.

“Is it too late to choose jail?” Thea asked.

“Yes,” they answered together, sharing a grin.

His sister rolled her eyes. “At least get a room.”

Laurel coughed as Thea moved to put her stuff down, and they glanced at each other once or twice.

“Um, I realize ‘later’ wasn’t really a definitive answer,” he mumbled, eyes on his shoes.

“I’m not doing anything tonight.”

He looked back up. “Yes. Thank you.” He’d been visited by that image of her so many times in the last twenty-four hours it had left a tenuous grip on his control.

“I think we should go back to the rules. No talking,” she said.

He’d been expecting it, so it hurt less. “Okay.” Oliver was desperate enough to agree to just about anything. Anything at all except revealing his secret.

Then Felicity Smoak called to meet about a secret she had regarding Walter’s disappearance and his mother. A tense discussion with Diggle in the base about the new copy of the list they now possessed had him practically fleeing for Laurel’s apartment.

She’d been doing work this time while waiting for him, he could tell by the papers strewn on her coffee table. In nothing but a sports bra and those short shorts. Oliver licked his lips and was glad to find his worries already leaving him. He picked her up and carried her off towards her room at something close to a run but with more frantic kissing.

“Are you okay? You’re kind of intense,” Laurel asked, hands on his shoulders as he ripped yet another condom packet open. She’d bought a second box already, and the secure knowledge of those future encounters filled him with an almost primal kind of pride.

She was his. She’d chosen him. Not Tommy, not anyone else. Maybe she had sought relief from another source in the years he was away, but he was here now. And hers, for whatever purpose she deemed him worthy of. If that was sex, he’d make certain she was never left wanting again.

Laurel had stopped moving with him entirely, which was the opposite of what he needed right now, so he shook his head.

“I thought we weren’t talking.” Then he leveraged his body over hers in a searing kiss as his hand snuck down between them to slip a finger in her folds. She was so wet, and he wondered if she’d spent the whole day waiting and waiting for this release like he’d been. He imagined her biting her lips and her pens as she crossed her legs this and that way beneath the desk to try and bring some pressure between her legs while her panties grew wetter and wetter, and it sent more of his blood rushing south as he groaned around her tongue. Did she need him as much as he needed her?

Laurel sighed through her nose since her mouth was occupied and spread her legs wider, giving in to their rules as she’d requested only this morning. She was glistening with the slick that coated her walls and her folds, and his mouth watered. What he wouldn’t give to kiss up her thighs till he reached those inner lips and drink and drink from them till she screamed for him. If he wasn’t so damned hard already… 

He added a second finger and a third soon after, wanting to make sure she was ready this time. Oliver didn’t think he could hold back; he was already throbbing with the need to bury himself in her until he couldn’t think, until he couldn’t remember his own name.

Laurel pushed down onto his fingers, taking them in deeper. “Ollie… want you.”

It was close enough to his vision that he snapped, withdrawing his hand and pulling her hips down to meet his own. He knelt fully upright, lifting her lower half and hooking her legs over his shoulders as he thrust into her fully in one stroke.

“ _Oh._ ” Laurel’s mouth was gaping open.

“Is this okay?” He managed to ask, trembling with the effort to hold himself still. She was so hot and tight around him it was a glorious torture to remain in place and not _move_ like his body was demanding.

Laurel nodded. “Do it. Yeah.”

With that, he set a driving pace, all his efforts focused on the pistoning of his hips into her. Laurel moaned and writhed beneath him, touching herself, and that only seemed to make him harder.

“Deeper, Ollie. More, just — _fuck_!”

He always knew when he found her spot. Whether it counted as talking or not, he could never ask Laurel to quiet herself during this. It was part of what made their sex feel special and theirs, so he only repeated the motion to draw more of those exclamations out of her.

Towards the end, he lost all sense of rhythm, mindlessly seeking out his pleasure over and over as Laurel’s voice rose and rose in ecstasy. He climaxed, thrusting through it until he had crested over the edge and was softening. In a few moments, he would withdraw, but he never quite could seem to right away, still too warm and bathed in the euphoria of their connection. He never wanted it to end.

His hands unclenched from around her thighs, and he kissed at a red mark forming on one of them. He’d forgotten his own strength in the heat of the moment.

“Did you?” He asked with the little breath he had.

“Yeah. Twice, I think,” she admitted, her voice holding something like awe. He pulled out and let her legs slip off his shoulders where they fell bonelessly to the mattress. “I don’t know what got into you, but feel free to come back and do it any time.”

Oliver laughed before he could help himself, and she joined in. He let himself fall to her side.

“Thank you,” he repeated again, and she smiled.

She was so open to him despite her best efforts, just like the vision of her had said. Like his subconscious had said, really. Would it be so bad if he did open himself to her? This storm that refused to quiet in his mind, he was sure Laurel could help if she knew. And if she accepted.

That was the big if, though, wasn’t it?

He sighed and rose onto slightly wobbly legs, collecting his things from the floor. As much as he was reluctant to return to the Manor, given what he now knew about his mother and her secrets, he had no legitimate excuse to stay.

Laurel watched him dress, languid and only half-covered by the sheet. “Do you have a home gym or something?”

He blinked. “Why do you ask?”

She huffed. “Ollie, I’m not blind. You clearly work out. I’ve been trying to figure out how you stay in that shape for ages, even started going to a public one myself.”

“Why?”

Now she did drag the sheet up over her breasts. “Well, when your sexual partner is built like a Greek God, kind of makes you wonder.”

He shook his head, even as he flushed at the compliment she’d paid him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

Laurel pursed her lips. “You say that, but I could not have held that position we just did a month ago. All about the core strength.”

It pulled another chuckle out of him. “I’m not too well-versed in the terminology. But I’ll take your word for it.” He came up to her bedside and left a lingering kiss on her lips. “Maybe work on flexibility while you’re at it. Only if you want.”

“Who says I’m not?”

He paused in the doorway. Those were dangerous words, dangerous thoughts. It was oh so tempting to turn around and ask that she demonstrate such newfound flexibility with a practical application. But he’d taken enough of her time tonight. He might never leave otherwise.

“Goodnight, Laurel.”

Oliver left her apartment and headed home, thankful his family was already asleep. If he’d had to face his mother now it would have undone the better mood he’d left Laurel’s in.

The careful balance he was keeping — the Hood on one end, his public life on the other, with his and Laurel’s encounters existing in some malleable in between — stretched to its breaking point only a week later. Laurel called the vigilante phone for help on a new case, only for them both to find out that her father had been waiting for a moment like this to set up a SWAT raid, storming the roof to surround him. Oliver was forced to place Laurel between himself and the police’s weapons in order to make his escape. Worse, a mole in the police department told the criminal Laurel had been hoping to catch about it, and Cyrus Vanch had her kidnapped to draw the Vigilante out. If the man had torn even one hair from her head…

Ironically, it was Lance who reached out to ask for his help, something Oliver readily agreed to as it was the only way to ensure Laurel’s safe return.

Once Laurel was rescued, however, he knew he had a decision to make. He had put her in danger twice in the last two days because of his association to her as the Hood. He needed to distance her from his vigilante persona.

But what about the rest of him? How long could their arrangement continue on when he was shutting her out of parts of his life?

Before he was able to answer that question for himself, she forced his hand. He had come home, expecting to get only a couple hours’ sleep, only for a knock to come at his bedroom door. He opened it.

“Laurel?”

“Hey,” she quickly skirted around him to get inside. “I don’t know if you heard, but there was sort of an incident with a criminal I had a case against once, and he attacked me at my apartment and kidnapped me.”

“Are you okay?” It wasn’t just because it was the thing to ask; Laurel would have had no reason to be honest to the Hood about her mental state, but maybe she would feel better talking to him.

“I will be, yeah.” She nodded. “I just — there’s a lot of stuff I need to clean up in my apartment starting tomorrow, and I didn’t really want to be alone with it right now.”

She could’ve stayed with her father. He was sure the man had offered, even begged her to stay with him. That she would choose Oliver was as humbling as it was shaming. How much better was he than Lance when he was keeping arguably even bigger secrets?

“So, if that’s alright with you, I _am_ yours for the night,” she added, hands toying with the hem of her sweater as she smiled coyly up at him.

“I…” He wanted it. So badly. “I can’t.”

Laurel’s smile slipped. “Why not?”

“It isn’t right, what I’ve been doing.”

Laurel laughed, though it sounded far bitterer than her usual. “Ollie, I have lost my faith in my father this week because of his actions. I’ve lost the — someone I believe in, because he thinks he knows what’s best for me. If you could just keep yourself from backing out for one night due to a sudden crisis of conscience, that would be great.” She stepped up to him, practically begging, and his heart ached. “Just one more night.”

“How can you even want this?” Oliver had to ask. Like when he’d asked how she didn’t hate him before all this had begun, he was just as lost.

“I think I’ve made it very clear how badly I want you. Like an astonishing amount.”

“I’ve been lying to you,” he pointed out.

“I know that. That’s the whole reason we’re doing this!” Laurel threw her hands up and paced away from him. “Why do you suddenly care that you’re lying to me?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

They both froze, neither one of them having expected that from him.

Oliver struggled to find the right words for several moments. “I wanted to make things right with you when I came home. To show how I’d changed, that I could be the person you needed. But there were things that, that had to come first. So I pushed you away and I _hated_ it,” he said, hands clenching into fists at his sides before relaxing. “And then you made that offer. And I couldn’t turn you down, Laurel, because I do want you. I want all of you. Not just your body, but the everyday stuff, too. The late nights where I have to coax you to bed because you forget to stop working, the lazy mornings on your days off, the way you get worked up while ranting about the defendant in whatever case you’re arguing next.”

He swallowed, all the more difficult because of the lump that had formed in his throat.

“I want all of that, and I know I can’t have it because of who I — as soon as you know…” he trailed off, staring into her eyes as they watched him with compassion.

And then it hit him. _The lies were why they were doing this._ Laurel hadn’t been sleeping with him because she didn’t know the truth. She was doing so in spite of it. Hoping, perhaps, and trusting that whatever his secrets, she would still want to be with the man he’d become.

He was so scared. But this time, he forced himself to speak.

“You were right, when you asked me about Iron Heights. I was there.” His next words felt like a weight falling off of his shoulders. “I’m the Hood.”

Laurel’s lips pressed tight together as she nodded. Her voice was quiet and a little shaky as she said, “I think I knew. I think I always knew.” She took another step towards him. “You said goodbye.”

“I did.” 

“Did you mean it?”

His head was shaking even as he answered, “I just want you to be safe—”

“Screw safe, Ollie.” Though her words were harsh, her tone remained comparatively gentle. “Half the criminals in this city probably know you’ve helped me by now, so you staying away from me is never going to work.”

She had a point there, he could almost hear Diggle telling him. Maybe if he’d just told her the truth way back when she’d asked she wouldn’t have needed to use the phone her father had bugged, and the mole Lance suspected was in the police department wouldn’t have spread the word of the failed sting operation. But it was too late to take any of it back.

Laurel took one more step to close the gap between them. “So, if I can’t be safe, I can at least be happy, right?”

He caught her by the wrists before she could wind her arms around his neck. “You really want to be with me after the things I’ve done?”

“Oliver, I worked with the Hood for a reason. Because I believe in what you’re doing. Do I have questions? Of course.” She leaned in, letting him balance her weight by the grip he still had on her arms. “But right now, all I care about is that you have changed, you do care about this city and the people in it and that you want me to be a part of that.” Her smile turned coy once again. “I also finally know who to thank for all the times my life has been saved this last year, and it makes things a whole lot less complicated that it’s the same man I am head over heels for.”

Oliver’s breath caught upon hearing those last words. “You really mean that?”

“Always. I never wanted to not be yours, Ollie.”

With his hold on her, he pulled her flush against him and crushed his lips to hers. Laurel responded with enthusiasm, catching his bottom lip between her teeth and leaning up onto her tiptoes to get closer. He added his tongue, losing track of everything else as he roamed her mouth. His hands started their own exploration, running up and down her back and sides.

He was free to touch and feel and appreciate, to love her the way he wanted to. More than any other point this past year, he felt he was finally home.

Bodies pressing and rubbing together, it wasn’t long before his arousal awakened and responded. She had that power over him to smash through all the careful control he had built up in his time away.

“Everything you said about the everyday stuff was really sweet,” Laurel said as they both parted to take in some air, foreheads still pressed together. “But for right now, I just really need you.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He couldn’t imagine now how he had been planning to give this up. Oliver could acknowledge he had perhaps developed some masochistic tendencies, but that would’ve been insanity.

As one, they moved to the bed. Oliver helped her out of her sweater and she got to work on his shirt buttons. He devoted himself to lavishing attention to her neck and the underside of her jaw, but had to reach for her hands a second time when she continued down to the button on his jeans.

“Wait,” he said, nipping at the juncture between her neck and shoulder, though the bulge in his pants begged to differ.

Laurel huffed. “What now?”

“Let me take my time. Please?” He asked, looking up to her face. “I want to do this properly.”

“You and your fantasies,” Laurel grumbled, dropping her head back on the pillow.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have any,” he teased as he followed to lean over her.

“I do. They mostly involve you taking me the way you did the other night like some wild man,” she declared, rather boldly in his opinion.

Oliver coughed. “That was… I was a little wound up from the accidental Vertigo injection.”

“Really? I didn’t know it made people horny.”

“That might just be me,” he admitted as he reached around to undo the clasp on her bra and pull the straps down to reveal her breasts and hardening nipples. “I think about you. A lot.”

“Mm-hm?” Laurel’s hand carded through his hair, and he leant into that caress.

“Digg had to stop me from storming your office.”

“And do what?” Laurel wondered aloud. “At my desk?” She gasped, but that might have had to do more with him latching onto one of her newly exposed nipples with his mouth. “Oh, _Ollie._ ”

The scent of sex was filling the air, and he felt just as lightheaded with it as he had been on Vertigo.

“You like that idea?”

“It’d be a little, ah, public,” Laurel mumbled, struggling valiantly to carry on the conversation. Her head tipped back, eyeing something across the room. “There’s a desk here.”

“Later.”

Her fingernails scratched at his scalp, sending tingles down his spine. “You can’t tell me that and then not do it, you tease.”

“Well, you did promise me the night.” He rose back up to kiss her lingeringly on the lips. “Patience.” 

Then he returned to the breast he’d been laving his tongue over. His hand cupped the other one, rubbing and squeezing as his finger pinched that nipple, feeling it harden even further under his attentions. He switched mouth and hand to repeat both actions on either breast, wanting to pay them each the equal attention they deserved.

With his remaining hand, he reached down to undo the fly on her pants, and Laurel happily wriggled out of them with his help, kicking them off the bed.

He splayed a hand over her, getting moisture on his fingers even through the cotton. She ground up into his palm, and he let her as it kept her from removing the garment as she’d intended.

“Leave this on,” he requested, tapping lightly on the fabric covering her center. Laurel made a small sound. “Just a little longer, please.” When she nodded her acceptance, he took his hand away.

Oliver moved lower with his lips and tongue on their tour of her body, now reaching her abdomen. The muscles in her stomach tensed — and there were muscles there, no doubt. She hadn’t been joking about improving her health, and he felt glad to have inspired it. Oliver therefore delayed even longer there, worshipping the progress she had made for herself. When he finished there, Laurel’s breath hitched and then released in a puff of air when he skipped right over her pelvis, starting anew just above her left knee. He chuckled.

“Ollie.”

“I waited five years for this, Laurel. Humor me.”

Dutifully, she fell silent. He kissed her knee and then moved to the other one, using both hands to massage and spread her legs further apart as he worked his way up.

“What did you wait for?” She could never stay silent for long, could she? God, did he love that about her. “It wasn’t just sex, clearly.”

He thought over his words as his hands crept higher and Laurel’s breathing grew heavier once again. “One of my teachers on the island who helped me to survive asked me once if you knew how much I loved you.” He let that hang in the air a moment in order to kiss along her inner thigh. Just before reaching her mound, again he pulled back. Laurel squirmed.

“I told her I didn’t think you did.”

“Can you blame me?” Laurel groaned as he licked a path up the inside of the other thigh, stopping just short of the same spot.

“No. But I also said that once I had come home, you would know.” He settled between her legs and his mouth watered. He could practically taste Laurel on his tongue just breathing her in. And the dark stain spreading across her panties promised she was wetter perhaps than he had ever seen her.

Oliver hooked his fingers in her waistband, dragging the material down and watching her shiver. Sure enough, her slick was practically leaking from her folds.

“That’s what I’ve waited for,” he said, his breath washing over her. Her hips lifted an inch or so off the mattress, seeking more. “To show you how much I love you in every way I know how.”

“Then _please,_ ” she begged. “Love me, Ollie. _Touch_ me, something — _ah!_ ”

At last, he obeyed. Starting off with light, teasing licks, little bursts of her taste on his tongue, he worked his way all around her outer folds. He nosed through the light covering of hair covering her mound and latched onto her clit with just his lips.

“Oh _God_.” Laurel was a babbling mess already, and a glance upward showed she had flung an arm over her face as if she couldn’t stand to watch anymore. He grinned to himself, playing with that bundle of nerves designed to light her up with pleasure. He kept switching up his technique to ensure she wasn’t quite able to reach that peak, knowing how much it would frustrate her in the moment but prolong the whole experience.

Sure enough, her hands reached down to try and guide his head where she wanted it, so he obliged her. This time, he used a hand to part her outer lips in order to dip his tongue in deeper into that heat. Above him, Laurel moaned and pushed her hips down.

He licked and lapped and stroked at her walls, chasing her taste and the high, keening sounds she was making. Saliva and slick ran down his jaw to drip on the sheets, but he paid it no mind. They’d receive far more stains than that if he had his way. And Laurel seemed to be counting on him to have it.

Oliver palmed his own hard-on through his jeans, needing to take some of the edge off, and his groans seemed to send vibrations through Laurel judging by her increased moaning. He returned a hand to rubbing her clit for good measure, abandoning all pretense of teasing and slowing down as he watched her fall apart from his fingers and tongue alone.

“Yes, yes, Ollie! God, you’re so good… I love you so much, I can’t—”

He sucked a breath in out of pure shock, but that suction and pressure on her was enough to tip her over the edge with a cry of his name, her hips spasming and rising off the mattress for a long moment. She collapsed soon after, gasping for breath, and he petted the insides of her thighs, still processing her words.

“You love me?”

“What?” Laurel’s arm fell away from her face as she looked down at him.

“You said ‘I love you’,” he told her.

It was impossible to tell if she was blushing when her face was already bright red from the exertion, but Laurel’s eyes widened and her knees jerked up. “Oh. Well, I- I do. Sorry, I didn’t mean to just drop that on you in the middle of everything.”

“That’s okay,” he said quickly. A shy smile rose on his lips. “I never thought you would again. I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

“Don’t start on that,” she chastised him. “You’ve apologized and I’ve clearly forgiven you. Let’s move forward.” she motioned him to come back up the bed towards her for a kiss that was messy and a little sticky thanks to the wetness still trailing down his face. “Mm, I shouldn’t like how filthy this is.”

“You like what you like,” he said with a shrug. Laurel nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder and stroking down his chest with the flat of her hand.

“You did all that for me and…” she sighed. “Just give me a few more minutes. Then I’ll be ready for _that,_ ” she told him with a pointed look downwards.

“I can wait.” Maybe not forever. Maybe not even for ten minutes, if he was being honest with himself. But they had all night.

“We should talk about the future,” Laurel said. “At least a little.”

“The only future I’m interested in right now is the one where you call off work tomorrow.”

“Ha-ha.” She pinched his chest. “Lucky for you, it’s my day off tomorrow. But, I don’t think we should spend it all in here.”

“You don’t?” He turned his head so he could nibble on the shell of her ear, enjoying the way she shuddered against him.

“No,” she replied, though it was drawn out in a way that made her sound uncertain. “I do have those questions, and I think there’s other things you probably need to show me. Like your base of operations.”

“Ah, good point. We’ll pencil that in. How about 5 p.m.?” He didn’t know why he was still so content to make such quippy remarks. He’d been doing so in his non-Hood persona as an act, and with Diggle he was far more serious. But he couldn’t help this cloud of happiness he seemed to be drifting on and what it was doing to him. Especially when it made Laurel smile.

“We’ll see. So, is that where you’ve been keeping your private gym?”

“Yes.” Something told him there was a follow-up question to that.

Sure enough, she asked, “Can I watch you work out?”

“...I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We might get a little inspired.” Already, his mind was cataloguing all of the horizontal and vertical surfaces in the foundry. The tables were an obvious choice, but there was something that appealed to him about dragging Laurel’s body down to the mats and—

He groaned as his erection strained against the confines of his underwear and pants.

“I think you may have gotten a little ahead of yourself already,” Laurel remarked. But her lips remained parted and her pupils had blown out wider in clear lust. “Can I help you with that?”

“Please.”

Laurel had his belt unbuckled and his fly down in moments. She was efficient, and he appreciated that with a hiss as his erection was finally freed to stand in the open air. His precome had started to bead at the tip, and looking like she was entranced, Laurel reached out to swipe at it with her thumb. He jumped at the contact, so much and yet not enough. Whatever she wanted to do to him, he’d gladly go along with it, but he couldn’t deny the hope that it would end with him inside her. His craving for that feeling of completeness would likely never go away.

“I need to ask you for something,” Laurel said, and it was enough to make him look back up to meet her eyes. Beyond the desire, there was also a nervousness there.

“Anything.” He didn’t want any sort of hesitance to cloud their love-making. He was fully committed to sharing everything with Laurel, and he needed her to feel the same.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to try, but I’ve been hesitant to bring it up before. Because we weren’t really talking to each other.” When he nodded, this seemed to ease some of her nerves, and she shifted up onto her knees a little. “Now that I know I can trust you, and how much I _have_ trusted you this past year since you’ve been back, I know I want this.”

“And _this_ is?” He asked, sensing she wanted to be prompted.

Laurel drew in a breath and said, “I want you to take me from behind.”

Oliver almost choked on the air he’d just breathed in. “You- you do?”

She nodded. “For so many years, I was just emotionally off. And then you came back, and it was like I woke up.” Laurel smiled, and it warmed him inside and out. “Then we started this and it, it woke something else in me. I don’t know how else to describe it than that. I want to try all these new things, things that excite me. Things like the Hood,” she admitted quietly.

And he knew, then, why this particular fantasy had grabbed her. He could remember standing in her darkened apartment, her back to his front as he spoke practically into her ear. His heart started pounding anew.

“I said ‘anything’,” he mused. “You’ve never done this with anyone?”

Laurel shook her head, and he licked his lips.

“Okay. I’ll guide you through it.” He leaned forward to kiss her tenderly, his thumb tracing over her cheekbone. The amount of trust and love she held for him was breathtaking, and he wanted her to know just how grateful he was for it. When they broke apart, he instructed her, “Turn around.”

His voice had taken on a husky quality of its own accord, and Laurel’s breath seemed to quicken in response as she hurried to do so. He caught her before she could place her hands down on the mattress, pulling her flush against him instead. He moaned in some relief as her ass rubbed up against him, and it was sheer willpower that kept him from simply grinding against the divot between her cheeks.

“Don’t I need to, _mm,_ get down?” She asked, leaning back against his chest as he caressed her breasts with both hands.

He stopped kissing her neck and back to say, “Not so fast.”

“You have the patience of a saint.” The comparison sounded far more like a complaint in this particular case. Not to mention an oxymoron considering their rather hedonistic activities of the last few months.

Oliver chuckled. “I picked it up along the way. But no, this is practical. Believe me, I want nothing more than to be inside you right this minute.” He thrust against her body once for demonstration, and they both groaned. “But you need to be ready for it. Even more so than usual.” The last thing he wanted was to accidentally hurt her when they were finally joining together again in every sense.

“You could do anything you wanted to me right now, and I’d be ready for it,” Laurel declared, glancing back at him with lustful intent. “So take me already.”

She had to know what effect those words were having on him, didn’t she? Words were her weapon and her plaything depending on her whim.

With his last shred of rational thought, he snuck a hand down between her legs to test that readiness — and inhaled sharply when it slid inside her up to the knuckle with no trouble. She was wet again, practically soaking, and she rocked down to take him in deeper.

“Your _cock_ , Ollie, if I wasn’t clear.”

“God,” he choked out, his cock only throbbing harder at her demanding it so brazenly. “On your elbows. Now.”

Laurel fell forward as he leaned towards the bedside table to grab a fresh condom. His hands were shaking as he rolled it on over himself. And he had to grip himself at the base to keep from finishing just at the sight of Laurel with her ass in the air, waiting for him. He was about to lose his mind if he wasn’t inside her in the next instant.

Oliver knelt behind her, shamelessly feeling her up as he adjusted her position to be just right. He nearly sobbed with relief when the head of his cock at last breached her, sliding home just like he needed. It would be so easy to let himself go and take her with the wild abandon that had seized him after his brush with Vertigo, but with this position he needed to pace himself. Laurel was trusting him not to hurt her, to make this feel good. He couldn’t take advantage of that trust.

So with deliberate slowness, Oliver withdrew before slowly filling her back up. The smooth slide of their bodies wasn’t friction enough to cause him an early finish, but just enough to keep him aching for more. Each stroke was reaching deep within her, and he could hear her muffled sounds of pleasure.

To an outside observer, Oliver was sure this erotic tableau they presented would look crass or pornographic. But there was intimacy and so much meaning beneath this act someone else wouldn’t understand; Laurel’s willingness to make herself totally vulnerable and trust him to treat her with the care and respect she deserved spoke more of her love for him than those three words truly could. That she knew who he was and saw him not as a monster, but a partner, it moved him more than he could say.

After holding out for so long, Oliver didn’t know how long he would last, so he focused his efforts on finding her special spot. One particularly loud shout into his pillow and a tremble in her legs told him he’d done so.

His speed picked up just slightly. As tightly as he tried to hold onto his control he couldn’t ignore his body’s urges completely. She just felt too damn good surrounding him. The grip he’d maintained on her hips was tight and uncompromising, but it kept him grounded enough not to mindlessly thrust into her heat.

Oliver bent double as he continued his rocking rhythm, pressing kisses to every inch of her skin he could comfortably reach. She shook even more, and he knew any second her elbows were about to give out.

“Come back up, okay? Just for a minute.” He wasn’t ready to leave her yet, so Oliver eased her upwards with both arms to rest back on her heels, sitting with him buried fully within her. “You’re doing amazing,” he breathed into her hair, tousled beyond any sense of order and decency. “How does it feel?”

“So, so good,” she told him. Her lips sought his out for an open-mouthed kiss. “I know we can’t risk it, but I- I wish you could come inside me right now, Ollie. I want to feel all of you.”

Those words and the image they produced in his mind’s eye were enough to send him toppling off that edge he’d been dancing on for most of the night, and he came with a moan of her name. The condom filled as he ground up into her, and he sought out her clit with his fingers to bring her to the heights of such pleasure along with him. He was only just starting to soften when he heard her gasp and felt her shudder around him.

One or the other of them fell forward and they lay like that panting from the release. When he finally regained his senses, Oliver slipped out and disposed of the condom. _I wish you could come inside me right now, Ollie._ He shivered with aftershocks of his orgasm just remembering it.

Laurel looked utterly debauched as she rolled onto her back and beckoned him to her. Her lips were red and puffed up from so much kissing, but it didn’t stop her from claiming his mouth again. When they broke apart, she smiled and murmured, “Thank you for doing that for me.”

“Believe me, I’m not in need of a thank you.” He could only pray that Laurel would continue to come to him with any new acts she wanted to try. Oliver grabbed for the duvet to cover them both, confident that for the moment the thing they both needed most was sleep. Laurel cuddling up into his side confirmed that assumption.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the words that had proven his undoing, however, so at last he asked, “About me, um, doing the other thing you mentioned…”

Laurel hummed in inquiry. Maybe she didn’t remember. Maybe she’d simply been that far gone.

“Us not using protection?”

“Oh.” Her eyes flew open. “Well, I always used to think that if I ever, you know, _someday,_ it’d be you.”

“Would it?” He couldn’t quite hide the hope and awe in his voice.

“But we’d have a _lot_ to figure out first before we could even think about risking it, even if I’m on the pill,” she cautioned. “Our families, our jobs.”

“Right,” he readily agreed.

“I mean, you for one seem to have big plans I’m sure I only know the vaguest details about.”

“We’ll go to the base tomorrow,” he promised. “You deserve to know what you’re signing up for with me. You’re right that my life isn’t exactly compatible with that kind of a development right now.” Saying it aloud seemed to puncture some of that contended glow he felt in his chest as the implications of the double life he lead started to hit him again. His mother’s secrets, this mysterious Undertaking. What was it all about? And how could he stop it to fulfill his father’s dying wish, so that he could start fully living his own life?

Laurel’s hand on his cheek pulled him out of those thoughts. “We’ll figure it out together. Just something to think about down the road. And when we haven’t completely worn ourselves out.”

He smirked. “Yeah.”

“Someday, Ollie,” Laurel repeated. “It’ll give you something new to wait for.”

He wound his arms around her waist. “I’m enjoying another thing I waited for right now.”

“Oh?”

“You staying. Me not having to go. Just the two of us falling asleep together, waking up together.” He couldn’t count how many times he’d had that dream. “That’s enough for now.”

“Yeah, considering how long it took us to get here,” she remarked, yawning afterward.

“...you enjoyed it.”

“Go to sleep, Ollie.” Laurel waited till he had shut his eyes before adding with mischief, “The sooner we rest up, the sooner we get to enjoy it again. _On your desk._ ”

He groaned, much to her amusement as she giggled into his chest. “What have I created?”

“What can I say? I’m an all or nothing kind of girl.”

“That’s just how I like my girlfriend.”

He cracked an eye open to try and gauge her reaction at the title, only to watch her lay her head down with a happy sigh. Oliver smiled to himself, drifting with Laurel off into a restful sleep.


End file.
